A Photographic New Year
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: Hinted shounen ai: Dearka x Yzak. Dearka wants a picture with Yzak. Yzak wants to concentrate on hosting his New Year's party. Athrun is apparently an uke, and Dearka scars Yzak's mind with frightening images. Happy New Year, everyone!


_A/N: Written in roughly three hours this evening, because I wanted terrifically to get a New Year's story out there. Also, because I can, I'm dedicating it to three very silly goofballs that make me laugh until I cry. YES, YOU THREE! I hope I've done this right, and that it makes you giggle until you fall over. (If it doesn't, I'll get you later.) HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYBODY!_

"Yzak, we _have_ to do it! It's too good of an opportunity to let it pass!"

"Shut your trap, Elsman. I am _not_ going to imitate _those_ two."

"But don't you want a decent picture of us together?"

Yzak rubbed his temples, praying that the New Year would bring him the sense of angelic patience that he lacked. Dearka waggled the photograph in the air again.

"Yzak, _everybody_ talks about this damn picture whenever the holidays come around," he said. "Lacus, Cagalli – _everyone_. I'm sick of hearing it. We could take a better one. We're better looking, anyway."

Yzak growled a death threat beneath his breath before he closed his eyes and answered slowly. "It doesn't matter what everyone thinks, Elsman. We are not taking a picture for people to fawn over."

Dearka fell silent. Yzak drew a deep gust of air through his lungs, reopened his eyes, and was met nose-to-nose with the picture he had just dismissed.

"_Look_ at it," Dearka urged. Yzak resisted the desire to snatch it away and burn holes in it with the flame of a festive candle.

Athrun Zala and Kira Yamato stood pressed against each other, clad in classy tuxedos and colored bowties. Athrun's arm seemed to be wrapped around Kira's waist from behind, pulling the brunette in close for the picture. They held tall glasses of champagne, forever frozen in clinking harmony as they toasted each other and the New Year. Yzak's features wrinkled in disgust. The two sported smiles brighter than halogen bulbs.

"Uggh, Elsman, I don't ever want to look like that." Yzak shoved the picture away from his face and turned toward the refreshment table. "Can't you _focus?_ The guests will be here soon, and everything at the Joule Estate has to go beyond expectations…"

Dearka set the picture aside mournfully. "Come on, Yzak. They look like they're having so much f—" He cut himself off mid-sentence, and Yzak pivoted warily to give the blonde a suspicious glance.

Dearka's violet eyes were alight with mischief. Yzak's blue ones shot open in horror.

"Yzak," Dearka purred, decadent and smooth like spiced molasses, "The perks in this are obvious. Look how close they're standing. Doesn't it look like fun?" He took a step nearer, dropping an arm to wind it round Yzak's midsection. "You're telling me you'd pass up a chance to be pressed against me that way?"

Yzak sputtered as he was hauled forward in Dearka's powerful grip. "Th-that's not the point, idiot!" His voice caught in his throat when their hips met with a delicious thrust of contact. The silver head felt his face grow warm. "Arrgh – Dearka, let go of me!"

The blonde bent to nuzzle his neck, breathing heavily beside his ear, still with an arm locked tightly in place. "A New Year's photo like this? You in that snappy tuxedo… The clock chimes twelve, I hold you close, the camera flashes as we clink glasses, we take a drink and then sneak off into the bedroom…"

Yzak fought the waves of passion that consumed him. He tried to block out the murmur of Dearka's words. There had always been something tempting in the blonde's tone - something seductive in those deep strains of sound that came rolling from his throat, husky and wanton at all the right moments.

"If you want to seduce me, Elsman, do it after midnight and without pictures involved," Yzak growled, tearing free with a supreme display of effort. "And besides," he grunted, straightening his tie and wishing he could cool his steaming face with the snow outdoors, "I highly doubt that Yamato and Zala meant it to be _that_ kind of picture."

"Oh no?" Dearka raised a condescending eyebrow, amusement still plastered over his features. Yzak smirked – he was probably admiring his handiwork. The silver head ran an indifferent hand through his hair to be sure it was suitable for company. Let Dearka see that he would not be distracted from his duties as host on New Year's Eve.

"If you ask me," Dearka went on, sauntering back to the table where he'd left the notorious photograph, "I think it's _exactly_ that kind of picture. Athrun looks rather coy and playful, don't you think?"

Yzak nearly lost his balance in his haste to reach Dearka's side. He snatched the picture from the blonde's hands and squinted at it balefully. "_Coy?_ How much have you already had to drink, Dearka? Zala isn't _capable_ of being coy. Overtly feminine, perhaps, but _coy_…"

"You're right," Dearka agreed airily, fiddling with one of the silk napkins from the nearest place setting, "You do coy much better. And you're far more feminine."

The picture narrowly avoided death-by-crumple when Yzak squeezed his hand into a fist. "ELSMAN!" But Dearka wasn't listening. He was stroking the rescued photo with a look of mortification that said, _There, there, little photograph – Yzak didn't mean to hurt your feelings._

When the effects of the sudden crisis had passed, Dearka examined the photo again, one hand on his chin as if to adopt a critical view. "Well," he said, clearing his throat seriously, "If there's nothing strange about Athrun… Kira certainly looks… _enthusiastic_." Then he sniggered wolfishly.

Yzak rolled his eyes. So much for serious and critical.

The silver head glared at the image and sneered. "Yamato looks the same way he always does," he contradicted. "Like a giddy fool that would keep smiling even if you crammed a grenade up his nose."

"Or like his penis just got really happy," Dearka volunteered, "Because Athrun dropped a glee bug down his pants."

Yzak went still for a long moment. Then he snorted; he couldn't help himself. He brought up a hand to smother his laughter. Dearka exploded into chuckles and wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. They both had to lean over and brace themselves on the tabletop to keep their knees from wobbling.

"You're really immature, Elsman," Yzak delivered finally, flat and disapproving, but he caught Dearka's gaze from the corner of his eye. It was twenty minutes until the first guests would arrive. Preparations had long been completed. Yzak monitored Dearka a moment longer. They exchanged a meaningful look.

The picture fell pray to their bored critiquing like a mobile suit to its replacement model.

"Kira's bowtie – _purple_? Were they trying to match the colors to bring out their eyes?" Dearka spoke the second sentence in a fruity lisp.

"You wanted to take our photo the same as theirs, Elsman. You're lucky I'm still refusing to do it, because I'd never let you get away with that hue anywhere on your person."

Dearka's flamboyant observations continued. "Athrun's fingers… He grips the glass much more elegantly than his lovely brunette counterpart. Such submissive charm."

"Submissive? Athrun Zala?! Where do you come up with this stuff, Dearka?"

Dearka grinned and fell back into normal speech. "Kira's all over that shit. You can tell."

"Y-You cannot! I already told you that I didn't think it was that kind of picture! That kind of _relationship_, for that matter. Zala's always surrounded by _girls_, so doesn't that speak for itself?"

"Pshaw – shows how much _you_ pay attention, Yzak."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Dearka put the photo down and waved a finger like a professor giving a lecture. "Yamato is most definitely the seme."

Yzak felt the color drain from his face. "Th… _Yamato?_ I'll rip the blonde hair off your head, you bastard! Yamato is a peace-loving, submissive little…"

"Oy," Dearka interrupted freely, gesturing from the photo to himself and back again. "Who stayed on the Archangel with him? Me or you? _Me,_ and I heard things."

Yzak gnashed his teeth together. "What _things?_"

Dearka's facial expression grew impish again. "Like that he's a real tiger between the sheets. Something about how he slept with that psycho girl Flay and totally owned her… She's the one that tried to kill me, you know."

"I thought that was Miri—"

"They _both_ did. Flay had a gun instead of a knife. That's a dangerous chick if I ever saw one, and Kira Yamato tapped that."

Yzak reached up to fist his perfect hair. "But he's with _Lacus_ now! She's practically an _angel_, for the love of ZAFT!"

Dearka shrugged and made a tisking noise. "Maybe an angel, maybe not. You don't know anything about her sex life behind the curtain."

Yzak let out a yelp of piercing volume as the images scarred his mind, and the blonde was forced to take a protective step backward. Yzak did not want to think about the things that Dearka was making him think about.

"Why are we having this damned conversation?" he exploded, hunched over and panting as if the force of the mental attack had stolen the breath from him.

"Because you won't take a picture like that with me," Dearka explained calmly.

Yzak tossed his hands into the air. "And you think I want to _now?_"

"The possibility that Athrun likes it the same way you do really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"AUGH!"

Dearka smoothed his tuxedo front and raked his fingers through his hair. "The guests will be here soon, Joule. Get a hold of yourself."

Yzak swayed and felt for the back of a chair to steady himself. "S-says you!" Dearka tucked the picture away in his breast pocket, casual as an office Friday. "I'll never be able to make a proper toast again, you bastard! I'll always think of _those_ two!"

Dearka hummed a little ditty and re-cuffed his shirtsleeves. "Athrunnn's an uke!"

Yzak slapped a palm to his forehead, cursing his inability to remain stoic in the face of the blonde's taunts. The doorbell rang. Dearka snickered. Yzak wished he could rewind time and simply agree to pose for a photo, the way Dearka had wanted.

"My New Year's resolution is going to be to rip your balls off," Yzak swore sinisterly as he composed himself and headed for the grand foyer.

"That's fine," Dearka said while the silver head walked away. "I'll let you attempt it tonight, and I'll also let you prove that you're better on the bottom than Athrun looks like he is."

Yzak tripped on his way out the door.

_A/N: No real Athruns or Kiras were harmed (or insulted) in the making of this fanfic. I actually do like them._


End file.
